Meryl's Mustache
by Shangri-La
Summary: Vash walks in on Meryl one day and discovers a little secret... Oh, and Knives is going through happy therapy with Milly. Smile, Knives! You can do it!


Disclaimer: I'm not going to come up with some cutesy way to say I don't own Trigun. I feel that violates my self-respect. Heehee - not really. Just can't come up with a good idea. So, hear ye, hear ye, I don't own Trigun!  
  
~~~~~  
  
It was a normally abnormal day at Vash the Stampede's house, what with his brother now safe and sound chained up in the basement, suffering through the process of being tamed by none other than Milly Thompson. That's right, people! This girl had done her homework! She had even ordered a book on Happy Therapy.  
  
Come on, Knives, smile! You can do it!  
  
But this story isn't about Knives and his 'smile therapy'. It's about Meryl and her *ahem* little secret.  
  
Well, one day, Vash, being his normal goofy self, was traipsing around the house with nothing better to do than search for his lost waffle iron, when a great idea just waltzed right over and smacked him upside the head. It sort of hurt, actually, with the force it hit his poor, spikey noggin. After moaning appropriately over it, he decided to act upon the advice his friend had so generously bestowed upon him (for being attacked by a smart thought was a rare occasion for poor Vash) and went to look for a much wiser, creative being.  
  
Meryl.  
  
He galloped up and down the halls, searching patiently for the elusive woman, until he came upon her bedroom, which he had already passed three times, and decided it was worth a try going in.  
  
He'd never been inside before, and our courageous gunman was appalled by some of the girly things he found - things a man should never have to see while accidentally sifting through a woman's dresser. Somehow though, he managed to keep very, very quiet, and in time, noticed that the door leading to her private bathroom was wide open. And he could hear humming issuing from within.  
  
Relieved that he had finally found her, he strolled on into the small tiled room, found the young woman with her back to him as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, and raised his arm to wave and enthusiastically call out, "Hey, Meryl!"  
  
She jumped in surprise and made a little noise like an, "Eep!" And it sounded pretty scared, which really confused our dear Vash.  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
"N-no, Vash! Just - just leave!"  
  
"But, I -"  
  
"JUST LEAVE!"  
  
"Ok," he said meekly, and tiptoed around the corner.  
  
Meryl was not normally naïve, being used to Vash's tricky tactics and practical jokes (he could be amazingly smart when it came to making her miserable), but this was not so this time. Assuming he was gone, she slowly turned around, only to have her life shortened by ten years.  
  
"HA!" Vash leapt in front of her like a maniac, pointing at her insanely. His eyes widened when he saw the white cream smeared across her upper lip. "OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT IS THAT STUFF ON YOUR FACE?!?!" Heroically, he dashed in to try to wipe it off with his thumb, assuming that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.  
  
"Stop it, Vash!" she screamed, writhing away from him. "Don't! It's just bleach!"  
  
"Bleach...?" Now our favorite outlaw was veritably stumped. He scratched at his stiff, blonde hair. "Why would you have bleach on your face...?" And then his eyes widened as he came to the conclusion we've all been waiting for him to reach. "YOU HAVE A MUSTACHE!"  
  
"What?! No! I do NOT have a mustache!"  
  
"YES! YES YOU DO!"  
  
"It's...it's just a little fuzz...all women have it!"  
  
"They do NOT! I think I would've heard about it by now!" His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he trembled in extreme disappointment. "Meryl, why? WHY IS THE TRUTH SO UGLY?!"  
  
Meryl willed herself not to slap the plant across the face, but it was so very hard. After all, she had made it into a frequent habit. Instead, she wiped the remaining bleach off her face and stalked out of the room.  
  
Vash followed her doggedly, whining all the way.  
  
"Meryl...is it really true? Do all women REALLY have mustaches?! Because, this ruins my image of the entire female population!"  
  
"Why is it always about you, Vash?" she returned angrily, opening the refrigerator door once she was in the kitchen. Carefully, she extracted a pint of ice cream, which she planned on downing to satisfy her sudden onslaught of depression. Yep, no one got her down like Vash the Stampede. "You're always whining about you and your donuts and your missing waffle iron and I think I'm the one who should whine a little! I'm the one who puts up with your psycho brother breaking out of the basement and terrorizing the town! I'm the one who - why are you laughing?!"  
  
And it was true. Vash had both hands pressed over his mouth, cheeks ballooning out, the sounds of smothered giggles coming from between his fingers. His broad shoulders shook in his amusement.  
  
"VASH!"  
  
"I'm sorry! I was just imagining what you would look like if you DIDN'T bleach your mustache! I mean...you don't shave, do you?"  
  
"Vash," she grumbled, "you are so crossing a line..."  
  
It was at that moment that Knives and Milly came up from the basement, Knives looking very cross, and Milly, very happy.  
  
Vash and Meryl fell silent.  
  
Knives snootily glanced at them both, and then continued onto the next room, Milly skipping happily behind him. "Do you ever wonder what they do when we're down there?" he demanded of the overly tall girl.  
  
She shrugged merrily.  
  
Back in the kitchen, Vash was pondering over something similar. "Ever wonder what they do when they're down there?"  
  
~*~What really transpired down in the basement~*~  
  
"Oh, wow, Knives!" Milly's pale blue eyes widened in excitement, her hands coming to rest over her fluttering heart. "I had no idea you could bootleg cable, Knives! Where'd you learn that?!"  
  
"Legato taught me."  
  
"Legato....now, that name sounds SO familiar!"  
  
Knives really didn't feel that deserved a reply, so he sat down cross- legged in front of the small television set and picked up the remote. Milly plopped down beside him. He flipped aimlessly through the channels until he came to an anime and the woman at his side shrieked in happiness. Cringing, he settled on the channel and sighed deeply. "What is this, pray tell?"  
  
"It's an episode of Rurouni Kenshin! Oh, look, it's Aoshi! I just love Aoshi!"  
  
Knives' brow furrowed in brief amusement as he watched the handsome man duel with a redheaded samurai with ease and expertise. "Hmm. He seems very monotone. Sort of reminds me of Legato. Even looks like him a little."  
  
"Oh! Oh! I just love Aoshi!"  
  
"Uh-huh..."  
  
"Do you think..." Milly's grinning face shone with expectation. "Do you think I could meet this Legato?"  
  
"No. He is dead. Besides, he killed that priest of yours. Dogforest or something."  
  
"Wolfwood," she corrected, waving her hand in dismissing. "Aww...shucks. I'll never get to meet an Aoshi look-alike!"  
  
~*~Back to the present~*~  
  
"They're having therapy sessions, of course," snapped Meryl. "Vash, we need to talk about my lack of privacy in this house!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You just walked into my bathroom! What if I hadn't been dressed or something?"  
  
"...what else are you hiding?"  
  
"VASH!!!"  
  
He winced. But nothing keeps Vash the Stampede at bay for long! Not even rabid poodles! No, siree! Before Meryl could stop him, he was in her face, cupping the back of her head with a palm and using his finger to gently run over her 'mustache' with untamed curiosity. He chuckled at the ticklish sensation of the fuzz beneath his finger tip. "Feels funny..."  
  
And the next thing Vash knew, he was wearing the ice cream, chocolate globs dripping down the front of his face and sticking and tangling in his hair. Meryl was stomping away, Knives and Milly had returned to the basement, and his waffle iron was still lost.  
  
Nothing left to do but keep looking for it!  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Well, there's nothing left to do but plead for reviews. So, review. 


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